


The Weather Outside is Frightful...

by southsidewrites



Series: A Very Merry Southside Christmas [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Holidays, Humor, Reader-Insert, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Snowed In, flirty banter, southside serpents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 21:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16961397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsidewrites/pseuds/southsidewrites
Summary: All you wanted to do was go home and watch Hallmark movies after work, but when you and Sweet Pea get snowed in at the Whyte Wyrm after hours, you find out there are better ways to spend a night.





	The Weather Outside is Frightful...

**Author's Note:**

> warning: smut

You stared longingly out the window as the snow continued to fall.  Since it had started snowing, the Wyrm had been dead.  Even Hog Eye had left with directions for you and Sweet Pea to close up whenever it seemed like no one else would show up.

“Sweet Pea, it’s time to kick your friends out,” you called, barely looking away from the window. “I’m getting tired over here.”

“C’mon, girl,” Toni laughed. “One more beer?”

You rolled your eyes and pulled another handful of bottles out of the cooler.  Smoothly, you popped the caps off and set one down in front of Toni and Fangs. “Fine, one more round, but then I’m calling it.”

“None for us?” Sweet Pea asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking at you in that way that had recently started to make your heart race.

“No, Sweet Pea, none for us,” you said firmly. “Not while we’re on the clock.”

“Aw, come on,” Fangs teased. “You’re willing to join a gang, but not to sneak a beer while you’re on the clock?”

“I know, I know, I’m an enigma wrapped in mystery.” You gave Sweet Pea a pointed look. “One more, and then they go.  I’m going to go take inventory, okay?”

“Sounds good!” he called, already sneaking another beer out of the cooler as soon as you were on the other side of the bar.

You rolled your eyes again, grabbing the inventory clipboard and starting down the stairs into the basement storeroom.  As you started counting, you couldn’t help but think about what was going on above you.  You were a relatively new Serpent, only having been initiated a few months before, a few days after your college graduation.  Working at the Wyrm had gotten you in close, though.  Most new Serpents only dreamed of being on a first name basis with the inner circle, and here you were, telling them off for drinking after hours. 

And then there was Sweet Pea—your unbelievably attractive, snarky, flirty, bad boy co-worker that you had a fierce crush on.  You couldn’t help the way your heart started to race around him, and no matter how many shifts you worked with him, it never seemed to get any easier. 

You made the last few marks on the inventory, took a deep breath, and headed back up the stairs.  When you got there, Sweet Pea was alone, a towel over his shoulder as he cleaned glasses.

He looked up at you with a soft smile. “Inventory done?”

“Yup.” You set the clipboard down on the bar. “Toni and Fangs gone?”

“Yup.  And the snow’s coming down like crazy, so we better clean up fast if we don’t want to spend the night here.”

You glanced out the window, and your heart sunk.  The snow was coming down like crazy, and you couldn’t even see where the parking lot ended and the road started. “Shit, yeah.”

Quickly, you got to work, the two of you falling into the familiar rhythm of cleaning the bar.  As always, Sweet Pea swapped out the normal music for his own playlist, an eclectic combination of classic rock, hip-hop, and the occasional pop song.  He got to work cleaning glasses as you wiped down the tables.  You kept the conversation to a minimum, more focused on cleaning than talking.  As usual, though, Sweet Pea wasn’t having it.

“So, any thrilling plans for tonight?” he asked, bobbing his head to the music as he cleaned.

“Nope,” you replied, not even bothering to turn around. “Probably just going to make some spiked hot chocolate and pass out to Hallmark movies.”  

He laughed, and you couldn’t contain your pleased smile. “What about you, skyscraper?  Any exciting plans?”

“Not even a little.  I actually have a similar plan, only mine involves whiskey and old game show reruns.”

“Not a fan of cheesy Christmas movies?”

“Not a fan of cheesy movies in general.”

“Really?” You turned to face him, maintaining a perfectly straight face. “And here I thought Sweet Pea, the badass gang leader, was secretly a hopeless romantic.”

Rolling his eyes, he tossed the dirty towel at you, hitting you in the side as you burst out laughing.

“Well, it’s obvious you are.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The way you look out the window,” he replied, his voice softening almost imperceptibly. “It’s like you can almost see how badly you want to be out there, kissing someone in the snow or some cheesy shit.”

“Ooh, called out,” you drawled, trying not to let your face reveal just how right he was and returning your focus to a stain on the table in front of you. “How do you know I wasn’t daydreaming about getting away from your grumpy ass?”

“Just a feeling.” His voice was closer, and you turned around to see that Sweet Pea was standing right behind you, less than a foot away from touching you. “You know that stain’s been there longer than we’ve been alive, right?”

You felt the heat from your pounding heart rise into your cheeks, and you silently cursed how easily you blushed.  You had no idea what to say to Sweet Pea, no idea how to non-awkwardly work your way out of his space.  Before you had long to freak out about it, though, there was a loud crack from outside the front door, and you both startled, jumping apart.

“What the hell was that?” Sweet Pea asked, his eyes wide as he walked over to the door.

“Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good.” You followed behind him, more nervous than you wanted to admit.  The weather may have been shitty, but nothing really stopped the Ghoulies when they wanted to fuck with the Serpents.

“No, it didn’t.” Sweet Pea slipped a hand into his pocket, a gesture you had come to recognize as him fingering his knife, preparing for whatever might be outside the door.  Slowly, Sweet Pea gripped the door, turned the handle, and pushed.  When nothing happened, and the door stayed firmly in place, he gave you a look. “Did you lock it already?”

You shook your head. “You’re the one with the keys, dude.”

His eyebrows furrowed, and his pushed again, harder.  Again, it didn’t move.

“What the fuck?”

His rage building, Sweet Pea gripped the handle and threw himself into the door.  There was a loud thud, and he rebounded back, nearly toppling to the ground and taking you with him.  This time, though, the door had budged just a few inches, and what you saw made your stomach drop.

Snow.

From the floor to the ceiling, there was snow blocking the door.  It was thick, heavy, the kind of snow that was ideal for building snowmen.  That, and blocking the door.

“The crack,” you said, prying open the door as much as you could to look out. “It must have been some sort of beam or something snapping under the weight of the snow.  It collapsed and dropped the snow with it.”

“So, what the fuck do we do?” Sweet Pea fumed, scowling as he gripped the shoulder he had slammed into the door with. “How do we get out?”

“Short of someone shoveling us out, I think we’re stuck here.  Unless the back is still open.”

“Yeah, about that…” he drawled. “The back door is, uh, out of commission.”

You turned on your heel to face him, your eyebrows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Fangs may or may not have ripped the doorknob off in a fit of rage last week, and my solution to that may or may not have been padlocking it shut to keep the cold out.”

“Okay, but like, you have the key to the padlock.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.  I just—you see—”

“It’s on the outside, isn’t it?”

“One might say that.”

It took all the self-control you had not to unleash a flurry of every swear word you had ever learned on him.  Your hands clenched into fists, and you took a step towards him, your voice rising in volume with every word “Are you telling me that you, Sweet Pea, the guy who’s worked here for like four years, thought it was a wise idea to lock one of two points of egress from the _outside_?  What if there was a fire?  What if someone started shooting?  What if the snow blocked the goddamn fucking front door?”

His eyes had gone wide, and he took a step back, lifting his hands as if to hold you off. “Damn, I guess I see why you joined the gang now?”

“What the ever-loving _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, like, you’re normally so nice and all, and like, smart.  It just made me wonder if you ever got actually angry, or like, if it would be scary when you did.”

You laughed bitterly. “You’re fucking kidding.  So, Sweet Pea, was I appropriately scary?”

“Yeah, kind of, actually.  Like, in a manic chihuahua kind of way, seeing as you’re so short and all.  Remind me to never get between you and Hallmark Christmas movies ever again.”

“A _manic chihuahua_?  Please tell me you’re not serious.”

He laughed, finally lowering his hands. “No, I’m not serious.  I have no doubt you’re the type who would kill me before I even knew you were mad.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your way around him to walk back to the bar. “Well, before it comes to that, let’s call someone to come shovel us out of here.” You picked your phone up from the counter and clicked the screen on.  Your face must have said it all because Sweet Pea gave you a concerned look.

“What?”

“No signal,” you answered, quickly restarting the phone.  It turned back on, and there were still no bars. “What the hell?” You looked up at him. “How about you?”

“Nothing,” he confirmed. “Towers must be out with the storm.”

“Fucking hell. This place has a landline somewhere, right?”

“Not to burst your bubble, but who are we going to call?”

“Are you seriously telling me you don’t have Fangs’ number memorized?”

“No, of course, I do, but he sure doesn’t have a goddamn landline.  If the towers are out here, they’re out everywhere.  Riverdale isn’t exactly an urban hub, you know.”

“Jesus Christ, Sweet Pea, I’m trying to problem-solve here.  I don’t see you throwing out any ideas.”

 He shrugged, his lips curving into a dangerous smirk. “Well, we could crack open a few bottles of the liquor of your choice, raid Hog Eye’s snack stash, and camp out in the office?”

Your jaw dropped, and you quickly snapped it shut. “So, like, spend the night here?”

“At least a few hours.  I mean, what else are we going to do?  Tunnel our way out with spoons?”

The idea was tempting, but you didn’t dare say it out loud.  Spending that much time with Sweet Pea was a bad idea.  Spending that much time drinking with Sweet Pea was an even worse idea.

He smirked—you had paused too long, and he knew he had you hooked.

You sighed, pushing your hair off your face and giving him a hard look. “Fine.”

“Excellent, I’ll grab the snacks, you pick the booze, and we’ll meet in the office.”

You were just about to come up with a snarky response when suddenly, everything went black and silent.  The gentle whir of the fridges was gone, and the music shut off completely.  The only light was coming from the emergency exit signs that were miraculously not broken.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

* * *

 

By the time you got to the office, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a two-liter of coke in the other, Sweet Pea had gone all out.  The room was full of candles, and there was a huge pile of chips and candy on the desk.  Sweet Pea was sitting on the couch, a candy bar in hand and a huge pile of blankets next to him.  If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was actually _excited._

“Sweet Pea, are you enjoying this?” you asked as you shoved the blankets off the couch and sat down next to him, maintaining at least a careful few inches of space between the two of you. “Like, genuinely enjoying this?”

He shrugged and snagged the whiskey and coke to pour himself a drink. “Hey, it’s not like my plans to drink alone were all that exciting.”

“Oh, but freezing to death in the Wyrm is downright thrilling.”

“We’re not going to freeze to death, drama queen.  It’s plenty warm in here.”

“Yeah, for now.  The heat is off, though, and it’s going to get cold quick.”

“I can think of a few ways to warm up,” he said, biting his lip and eyeing you in a way that made your whole body erupt in goosebumps.

“Shut up, Sweet Pea,” you groaned, grabbing the drinks and pouring yourself a glass. “And keep your hands to yourself.”

“I will if you will, princess, but I have no doubt that if I put my mind to it, I can have you jumping me within the hour.”

You scoffed and took a sip of your drink, realizing that you had made it a lot stronger than you intended. “That sounds like the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

“Wanna bet?”

“What could we possibly bet?”

He shrugged. “How about a date?  I’m right, and you pay for our first date, and if you’re right, I’ll pay.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d go on a date with you.”

“C’mon, princess.  I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, and you wished that you had been blessed with a better poker face.  He was right, though, you hadn’t thought he’d noticed.  Fucking Sweet Pea was too perceptive for his own good.  You had to say something.  You couldn’t just sit there, your mouth open like a complete idiot.

“Don’t call me princess.” _Shitty, horrible, stupid response._

“Would you prefer something else?  Babydoll, beautiful, sweetheart, sugar lips?”

“My name would be fine, too,” you said more forcefully than you intended.

“You got it, sugar lips.”

You dropped your head in your hands with a sigh. “Even princess was better than that.”

He smirked and took another sip of his drink. “So, what do you say, do we have a bet?”

You looked up at him, at his mischievous smile, and your stomach erupted with butterflies. “One hour?”

“One hour.”

You downed the rest of your too-strong drink in one gulp and held out your hand. “We have a bet.”

* * *

 

“No way, you seriously locked him in the freezer?” you laughed.  You and Sweet Pea were snuggled under the pile of blankets, surrounded by half-eaten snacks and empty bottles. “You could have killed the guy, Sweet Pea.”

“Nah, just making sure he didn’t go home with a complete lunatic just because he was hot.  Fangs tends to lead with his little head more than his big one sometimes.”

You stifled a laugh and glanced down at your phone, which was at the end of its battery life, to see that nearly fifty minutes had already passed. “Well, Sweet Pea, only ten minutes left in this hour, and I have to say I haven’t had even the slightest desire to kiss you.”

Rolling his eyes, he tossed a piece of popcorn in the air and caught it in his mouth. “Now that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.  You just have remarkable self-control.”

You smirked and popped a Skittle in your mouth. “Where do you keep it, Sweet Pea?”

“Keep what?”

“Your massive, over-inflated ego.  I mean, there’s no way you could carry it around all day, so I assume you keep it somewhere.”

“Ha, ha.” He ran his hand through his hair, and in the dim candlelight, his tattoo seemed to jut out in even darker contrast with his skin.

“Why’d you get it there?”

It took him a second to process what you were asking, then he nodded. “Oh, yeah, neck tattoo.  I was a dumbass fifteen-year-old who thought I was tough shit and that having a neck tattoo would make me intimidating.”

“Do you regret it?”

He shrugged. “Not really worth regretting.  Let’s be real—my life is on the fast track to either running the garage or the Wyrm, so it’s not like it’ll matter.”

“’Spose not.” You took a long sip from your drink, never taking your eyes off him, off the way the flickering light from the candles made him look at little bit like he was glowing.

“How about you, princess?  Where’s yours?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I sure would.” He leaned in close, his hand running up your leg.  Just before he reached your waist, though, he snagged the Skittles bag instead. “I bet you went for the tramp stamp.”

“Seriously, Pea?  You really think _I’d_ get a tramp stamp?”

“Hey, what can I say?  It’s a classic.” His gaze roamed over you as he popped another Skittle in his mouth. “Or maybe ribcage—all the chicks go for ribcage these days according to Toni.”

“Guess you’ll have to work a little harder if you ever want to find out.” You checked the time again. “It’s less than a minute until you lose.”

“Is it really a loss, though?”

“What do you mean?”

He picked up his phone and clicked the screen on, watching as the clock counted down. “Is it really a loss if I get to do _this_ in five, four, three, two…”

His lips were on yours before you even had time to consider if it was a good idea.  As soon as his lips parted yours, though, you stopped thinking entirely.  Suddenly, you were on top of him, pushing him back on the couch and pinning him down with your legs on either side of his hips.  He moaned into the kiss, running one hand into your hair and the other up your shirt.  His lips moved down your jaw to your neck, sucking on the sensitive spot near your ear.  You let out an incoherent moan, and he smiled into your neck.

“See, no losers here,” he murmured.

“You still have to pay for the first date,” you replied, forcing your eyes open to look into his.

“So, you’re saying I do get a date?”

“Yeah, Sweet Pea,” you laughed. “You get a date.”

“Excellent.” He smirked. “Now, would you please take your goddamn clothes off so I can find that tattoo?”

Still laughing, you leaned in and kissed him again, pressing your chest into his and running your hand through his messy hair. “Why don’t you take them off for me?”

You didn’t need to tell him twice.  In one fluid movement, Sweet Pea yanked your shirt off and flipped you onto your back.  He made quick work of your bra, tossing it onto the floor with the shirt.  He pressed his lips into your collarbone, sucking just hard enough to make you whimper with desire.

“Nothing yet,” he observed, running his fingertips lightly over your ribcage. “Maybe you’re not as basic as I thought.”

You rolled your eyes and shut him up with a hard kiss, running your hands under his shirt to push it off. “Take off your shirt, Pea.”

“Your wish is my command.” He sat up to yank off his shirt and was back on you within seconds.  His skin was hot against yours, the firm muscles of his shoulders tense under your grip. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” he murmured, already fiddling with the button of your jeans.

You moaned his name as his mouth closed around your nipple.  He had gotten your jeans off now, adding them and your panties to the growing pile of clothes.  All you could do was whimper incoherently and hold him tighter as he started running his fingers over your soaked core.

Your hands were on his jeans now, frantically unbuckling his belt.  You were desperate to have him inside you, to feel his hot skin as every part of his body covered yours. “Sweet Pea, please,” you whined.

“Not yet, beautiful,” he replied, moving his hands to your hips to hold you firmly in place. “I still need to find that tattoo.” He pressed a hot kiss into your neck, brushing your hair aside to double-check your neck. “Must be on your back,” he muttered.

You laughed as he gripped your ass hard to flip you over onto all fours.  You tossed your hair aside and glanced back at him. “So, what do you think?”

“Disappointed it’s not a tramp stamp, if I’m being honest,” he replied, tracing his finger over the ink-black serpent and sending shivers down your spine. “I suppose this is more original, though.” He leaned in close and placed a kiss lightly on the tattoo, directly between your shoulder blades. “What made you get it here?” he asked, his voice low as he wrapped his arms around you, tugging you in close.

You moaned as his hardness brushed against you, arching your back into him needily. “Toni suggested it.  I asked her where a cool spot would be that she doesn’t often do.”

“How bad did it hurt?” he continued.  You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he deliberately rubbed himself against you, teasing you to the point of madness.

“Yes, it fucking hurt, Sweet Pea.  It’s a tattoo.”

“But, like, how much?” He gripped your hips tighter, preventing you from wriggling on to him like you so badly wanted. “I bet the spine is not a super great place for a tattoo.”

“Sweet Pea, if you don’t fuck me soon, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Such a dirty mouth on such a pretty girl,” he replied.  It was clear that it was getting to him too, now.  His voice was low and strained, and he was one short movement away from being inside you.  You were both ready to burst.  “Suppose I have kept you waiting long enough, though.”

Behind you, you heard a rustle of clothes, and then the soft rip of a condom package, he pulled away for a moment, and then he was back, the head of his cock resting lightly on your burning skin.  Every inch of you seemed to be on fire—heat was radiating out from every place where his skin touched yours.  Your breath was heavy, labored.

“Please, Pea.”

“You’ve got it.” He thrust into you slowly, and you both let out a loud moan, pressing into each other as hard as you could. “Ready, baby?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Hold on tight.” He started thrusting at a relentless pace, slamming his body into yours so hard it almost hurt.  Immediately, you could feel the pressure building within you—the heat in your stomach that was spreading throughout your entire body.  The room was filled with the sounds of your moans, the sound of skin hitting skin.  You clung to the old couch, burying your face in the worn fabric in an attempt to stifle your gasps and moans.

“Oh fuck, Pea—shit, _yes._   I’m close.”

He nearly growled as he pulled out of you, grabbing your hips and flipping you over before you even had time to miss the feeling. “I want to see your face when you come all over my cock,” he murmured, his lips back on yours before you had a chance to respond.

He thrust back into you, the fire in your body not fading for a second.  He was moving slower now, with a more deliberate rhythm.  His hand had moved to your hip, his thumb brushing against your clit in the perfect rhythm.  He was doing everything he could to make you come undone, and it was working.

All you could do was writhe and whimper as he worked his magic on your body.  Your eyes were squeezed shut, so you forced them open to see him looking down at you with an expression so intense that you almost came right there. 

“Oh my God, I’m—”

“That’s it, beautiful.  Let go.  Come for me.”

With a scream, you came hard, your fingertips digging into his back as pleasure radiated through your entire body.  Everything was on fire, like a bolt of electricity had shot through you.  You were only party aware of Sweet Pea finishing, thrusting hard into you to feel your body spasming around him. It seemed to go on for ages, both of you holding on to each other and making noises that barely sounded like words.

Finally, you started coming down, and Sweet Pea collapsed onto the couch next to you, wrapping you in his arms as he retrieved the blankets from the floor.  You were still breathing heavily as you snuggled into him pressing soft kisses into his chest.

“Told you I could warm you up,” he breathed, kissing your forehead lightly.

“Mhm,” you replied, not fully ready for words yes. “Sure.”

“You really are beautiful,” he said. “Like, absolutely, unrealistically beautiful.”

“Mhm,” you murmured, glancing down your body to see an array of hickeys and red marks. “And you’re a fucking liar.  I look like I was just attacked by a squid.”

“I’m offended,” he laughed, ticking your side and earning a low whine. “I’m definitely a better kisser than the average squid.”

“Sure, you are, Pea.” You looked up at him, and you couldn’t help but smile.  Like you, he was red-faced, with messy hair and swollen lips. “I’ll give you that much.”

“Good.” He gently lifted your chin to pull you in close for a kiss. “So, did I beat a night of Hallmark movies?”

“Absolutely.”

* * *

 

“No wonder he never called back,” Toni grumbled, fixing her hat before she forced the shovel back into the snowbank. “They must have been totally trapped in here.”

“Yeah,” Fangs replied, sounding equally grumpy as he yanked at old boards with a crowbar. “What gave it away? The massive pile of snow?  Or the roof beam blocking the top of the door?”

“He’s still not answered,” Jughead said.  Unlike the others, he was perched on the bed of the truck, his phone in hand. “And neither is she.”

“Phones probably died,” Toni said. “And the power just kicked back in this morning.”

“Yeah, just before the crack of dawn when you woke us both up for this dumbass rescue mission.” Fangs tossed another broken board aside. “They’re adults—they would have found a way out eventually.”

“Yeah, by calling us.” Toni exhaled sharply. “Really, I just saved us some time.” She kicked a block of ice aside as Fangs ripped down a final board.  Finally, there was enough room to pry the door open wide enough for them to slip in.

“So, who do you think is going to be dead?” Jughead asked as he hopped off the truck. “Him or her?”

“For sure Sweet Pea,” Toni answered as she slipped into the darkened bar. “There’s no way she went this long without locking him in the freezer or something.” She grinned at Fangs, and he rolled his eyes.

“Nah, I think they’re both dead,” Fangs suggested. “She may be little, but I think it’d be a pretty fair fight.”

Jughead led the way back to the office—now that the lights were back on, it was easy enough to navigate the cluttered bar.  He reached the door and pushed it open without knocking.  The lights were off, and all of the candles had burnt out, leaving nothing but some faint light from a tiny, curtained window.

“Good morning, sleepyheads,” he called, flicking on the lights. “Hope you—holy shit!”

Fangs and Toni followed him in, and both gaped in shock at the sight of you and Sweet Pea curled into the couch together, both completely naked.  You were almost entirely covered with blankets, but the pile of clothes next to the empty whiskey bottle was evidence enough.

“You two fucking slept together?” Fangs laughed. “Nice one, man.”

Sweet Pea had roused just enough to know he was angry.  He hugged you tighter, making sure the blankets had you securely covered before he flipped his friend off. “Why are you here?”

You were awake now, too, whining at the bright lights and burying your face in Sweet Pea’s chest.  Your head was pounding in what was sure to be a nasty hangover.

“We came to save you,” Toni laughed. “Seeing as you were trapped and all.”

“And here we thought you two would have gotten absolutely sick of each other,” Jughead mused. “’Bout time you finally did this, though.  The sexual tension was getting so thick you could cut it with a knife.”

Now it was your turn to flip them off. “Turn off the damn lights,” you groaned.

Jughead laughed and flipped them off. “I’ll let Hog Eye know about the busted door.  You two get home safe now, alright?”

You both responded with an annoyed groan.  Toni shut the door behind them as they left.

Sweet Pea held you close, his eyes already drifting shut again. “Wanna come back to my place for breakfast?”

“Can we go back to sleep after?”

“Absolutely.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, but sure to check out all the other awesome fics being written for the Riverdale Reindeer Games event.
> 
> Also, check out my other Sweet Pea x Reader works.
> 
> Happy holidays!


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